This one gave me a hard time at first…but then it gave me lots of nice feels. :’)

18. “It’s ok to cry…”

Sherlock was completely and totally beat as he arrived at Molly’s flat. He was physically tired from being out all night chasing a suspect, hungry from having gone without food for almost a full day, and emotionally drained because of the fact that Lestrade ended up having to shoot the young criminal after he was foolish enough to pull a gun on them.

Perhaps in the past it wouldn’t have bothered him quite as much. But when he walked over and saw the lifeless face of a man who was barely a man, his heart ached a little. His mind went to the young man’s parents and how broken they’d be upon hearing the news, regardless of what life their son had led up till then. A parent shouldn’t have to lose a child. Period. And Sherlock felt more strongly about that fact now than he ever had before. Not just because of Victor, or because of the unnecessary pain his parents lived with for so many years, but also because of being a Godparent himself. That child meant the world to him, and he could only imagine the level of attachment that came from truly being a father.

He couldn’t help but wonder if that amount of love, and all that went with it, might just break him.

He walked in the door to see Molly balancing Rosie on her hip while trying to stir some soup. She turned and grinned upon hearing him enter, though her expression shifted as soon as she examined his.

“Oh goodness…long night?” Molly asked

“Sadly yes,” Sherlock admitted with a small smile.

“Well this one should be having a morning nap soon and I think Uncle Sherlock should do the same!” Molly said with a tickle on Rosie’s belly, making her giggle. “Oh and I think there’s something we need to show Uncle Sherlock, right?”

“Oh?” Sherlock asked while taking off his coat. “And what is that?”

“Well we learned a little something new today. Can’t wait to have her show John when he’s back from his medical conference!” Molly adjusted the sixteen month old Rosie on her hip and spoke clearly to her. “Rosie, what can you say now? Can you say, ‘I love you?’ Can you tell Uncle Sherlock?”

Rosie turned and grinned brightly at Sherlock. She pointed to him enthusiastically.

“Luh you!”

Sherlock’s eyes widened and jaw dropped open. “Sh-she just said she loves me!”

Molly nodded. “Yep, that’s right. We’ve been practicing all morning!”

“Luh you!” Rosie said excitedly again, reaching out to Sherlock.

Sherlock took her into his arms and felt a strange tightness in his chest and throat as he swept some of the blonde curls from her face. “Love you too, Rosie.”

That was when he realized that Molly was peering at him with particular interest and maybe even a little amusement. Sherlock cleared his throat and sniffed.

“Stupid cat of yours,” he attempted. “Got some of the fur in my eyes again.”

Molly smiled and stroked his arm gently. “You know, you’ve had a long night, and she is your Goddaughter and she just told you she loves you for the first time. It’s ok to cry…”

Sherlock pressed his lips together as Rosie snuggled up under his chin, and then he felt a tear escape against his will. He sniffled a little and wiped his eyes, resting his cheek on her soft little head. He managed a shaky smile at Molly.

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

She returned his smile and gave his arm one more squeeze before returning to the soup, speaking over her shoulder while spooning some into a bow.

“You should have some of this and then lay down. You’ll never be able to watch her while I’m at work if you don’t.”

Sherlock sat down at Molly’s kitchen counter, Rosie still in his arms, and he couldn’t stop gazing at the woman across from him. Moisture still clouded his vision a bit…but somehow there was also a newfound and rather brilliant clarity.

As Molly walked over and set the bowl in front of him, Sherlock looked up at her intently.

“Would you like to have one?” he asked very softly. “A child, I mean.”

She stared back at him in silent awe.

“I think- no- I know I would like to,” Sherlock went on. “And what’s more, I know that if I have one…I’d like it to be with you.”

Molly had to take a moment to draw a breath. But finally she nodded, her lips lifting in a slow smile. “Yeah. Yeah I would like to have a child…with you.”

Sherlock felt his heart about to burst as he grinned back at her.

Molly leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to his temple. But she did give him a little smirk as she pulled away.

John had been on his way to pick up his suit from the dry cleaners when he’d gotten Sherlock’s text, summoning him, at once, to Baker Street. He dashed up the stairs and burst into the flat to find Sherlock pacing the room, looking rather distressed.
“What is it? What is going on?” he asked, breathless.
“I’m going to do it, I am going to propose to Y/N tonight,” he said.
“Oh?”John said, still trying to figure out why he had just run across town for this. “That’s good news.”
“No, it’s terrible news,” Sherlock said, resuming his pacing.
“Oh?” John said again.
“Yes, I haven’t gotten a clue as to what I am going to say,” he explained. “And I had hoped to get your advice, however, you only seem capable of uttering the word ‘Oh?’”
“Well, ‘will you marry me’ usually works,” John shrugged.
“Oh come now, I can’t do something as boring as that,” Sherlock sneered. “Y/N is perfection, she is everything, she is my other half–my better half. She deserves a proposal of epic magnitude.”
“Well it sounds as if you’ve gotten it half written right there,”John pointed out. “Start with that.” Sherlock cocked his head a little and glanced up and to the right while he mulled over what John had said.
“Y/N, you are perfection,” Sherlock started. “You are my everything. You are my better half…”
“You’ve shown me what it means to love and be loved?” John offered.
“Oh, that’s quite good, yes…” Sherlock said, a small smile crossing his lips. “You have shown me what it is to love and be loved in return. You’ve changed my life in almost every way possible…”
“… and I can’t imagine a single day without you by my side…” John continued.
“Perfect!” Sherlock exclaimed. “Then I take out the ring–”
“Wait, there is a ring?” John exclaimed.
“Of course there is a ring, John,” Sherlock said, looking at his friend as if he had lost his mind. “Haven’t you ever proposed before? It’s no good if there is no ring.”
“Right, of course, what was I thinking,” John muttered sarcastically. “Are we good here then?”
“Almost, let’s just have one more run through, shall we?” Sherlock said, looking around. “Here, you sit here and pretend to be Y/N.”
“Nope,” John said, turning to leave.
“Please, John,” Sherlock begged, “I want it to be perfect. Do it for Y/N.” John stopped in his tracks and remembered how nervous he’d been when he’d been ready to propose to Mary. He also remembered how much he had wished Sherlock had been there, to help him through the ordeal and to share in his excitement. With a sigh, he turned back and took a seat in the chair.
“Fine, let’s get this over with,” he said, placing a hand on each knee and trying not to fidget around uncomfortably. Sherlock cleared his throat.
“Y/N, you are perfection. You are my everything. You are my better half. You have shown me what it means to love and be loved in return. You have changed my life in almost every way possible and I cannot imagine a single day without you by my side…” He paused here and produced the velvet ring box from the pocket of his suit jacket. He opened the lid and held it out in front of him before slowly dropping down to one knee. “I love you more and more each day. Will you marry me?” John looked at the ring for a moment then back to Sherlock.
“I knew it,” a voice said from the doorway. Both men snapped their heads up to see Y/N, standing in the door frame, her eyes wide, a horrified look on her face. “I knew there was something up with you two.”
“This is NOT what it looks like, I swear!” John exclaimed, jumping up. He looked back at Sherlock. “Say something!” he hissed to his friend. Again, Sherlock cleared his throat.
“Y/N… you are perfection……”

"Sherlock what are you doing here?" John asks his ballet dancer boyfriend shows up in the locker room during half time. "Just providing you with a little incentive," Sherlock says dragging him into the equipment room. "Oh god!" John gasps and then covers his mouth as Sherlock drops to his knees. "John Hamish Watson, will you marry me?" Sherlock asks taking out a ring. "This is my incentive?" John says shocked. "No, the hotel suite I'm going to fuck you in once you say yes is your incentive."

Plot: Reader-chan creates a fiasco of a diversion. Hey, it was for a case!

A/N: Thanks for reading!

×•×•×

Inevitably, the lanky consulting detective whines rather loudly from the lack of an intriguing case. His “so-done-with-your-bull” blogger attempts to cease his bellyaching by tossing a file folder onto his lap.

Almost reluctantly, Sherlock opens up the cover and fiddles with the paper clip boredly. His bleak eyes scan through the information and after a few moments after reading, he flashes his signature smirk.

John rolls his eyes and sighs,“Did you already solve it or something?” The former soldier picks up his tea and Sherlock rises quickly from the sunken couch.

“Come along, John. We got a case to solve.”

×•×•×

The doorbell’s ring chimes throughout the flat for about the thirteenth time. The owner of the flat swings open the door quite hastily.

“What do you want?” (Y/N) groans slightly angered. It isn’t until she finishes dies she realize it is only the detective and the blogger.

In response to the rude greeting, John sends a small frown toward her. (Y/N) grimaces and corrects herself forcefully,“Welcome to my humble abode. How may I be of assistance?”

The two men turn and Sherlock huffs into the cool, London air,“For a case of course. We’ll be waiting in the cab.”

(Y/N) calls after them with an upset sigh,“Do I have to wear heels?” Sherlock waves his hand dismissively as he walks away.

×•×•×

With her flats padding softly along the sidewalk, (Y/N) quickly walks to the cab and pulls open the door. The three people inside (except the cabbie) acknowledge her presence by scooting over one seat.

“Hey, lovebirds. Afternoon, Mary,” (Y/N) greets with a fake smile. John gives his best “for-the-thousandth-time-I’m-not-gay-I’m-married!” look at her.

Sherlock scans her up and down. (Y/N) jokes with blatant sarcasm,“Like what you see?”

“You couldn’t have dressed better?” Sherlock expertly dodges the teasing. She glares at him once more,“You say that as if you don’t want me to come. What’s the case?”

The cabbie glances at the four through the driving mirror. Though it is quick, Sherlock catches the gesture.

“It’s a long story. This is our man, though. You see him, get him,” Sherlock answers quickly and shows the picture.

(Y/N) scoffs,“Got it, boss.”

She shifts uncomfortably around. Sherlock takes note of her discomfort, but John speaks up.

“You’re lucky Greg and Molly took another cab. I mean, Lestrade is the only one who can arrest him legally.”

“Right.”

×•×•×

Mary lets out a small hooting giggle while John leads her to the dancefloor. Sherlock and (Y/N) stay behind at their stolen, reserved table. They don’t even make the effort to pretend they are each other’s dates. Their eyes like eagles’ observe critically throughout the room. Greg Lestrade is doing the same but it seems he keeps being distracted by Molly. Molly, however, seems to focus on a certain detective.

“Sherlock, there’s no use being here. Three couples outside are indefinitely freezing in their dressy attire arguing with the bouncer that they made reservations. Sherlock, I don’t see him anywhere,” whines (Y/N). She downs the last of her drink. Sherlock watches as she tips her head back in order to get every drop.

Right as the drink is finished, she chuckles into her glass. “Found him. 1 o'clock, heading for the exit.”

Sherlock spots him quickly and stands suddenly,“Great. John’s the closest. Give him the signal.”

She dumps Sherlock’s red wine onto her sweater. (Y/N) cups her hands into a megaphone and shouts,“Oh, shoot, my favourite cardigan!” Mary pulls her husband out of his lovey-dovey daydream and points discreetly to the suspect. John starts maneuvering around the dancing guests to catch him.

Sherlock notices and states to (Y/N),“He’s moving way to quickly. We need a distraction. Now.” (Y/N) frantically stammers,“I have an idea but you’re going to just work with me.”

“Do what you have to do.”

“Don’t get mad at me later.” (Y/N) grips him by the shoulders and pushes him to one knee. She grasps his hands and says loudly in an over-enthusiastic voice than usual,“Oh my goodness, yes, of course I’ll marry you!!!”

Sherlock mouths quickly,“What?” (Y/N) pulls him up and hugs him tightly. The guests of the party start applauding loudly and shouting their congratulations.

It is harder to move through the clapping people, but their target is still moving to the exit. Thankfully, John has a clear path to him. Greg follows promptly and takes quite a leap to tackle the man.

Amongst the plaudits is Lestrade’s shouting of “London Police” or some crap. Sherlock and (Y/N) finally pull away and she starts leading him to the exit, still playing the “proposal” card. Molly reluctantly follows them outside.

×•×•×

Once outside, red and blue cop car lights shine through (Y/N)’s wine glass. Sherlock is busy conversing with John and Mary is off somewhere. Greg is forcing the suspect into the car.

Molly stiffly scoots over to (Y/N).

“So, uhm. Congratulations to you two I guess…” Molly says meekly. (Y/N) continues looking across the virtual sea of lavish yachts but still frowns.

“Molly, you are adorable but absolutely clueless. It was merely a diversion,” (Y/N) chugs her wine with a chuckle. Molly is taken aback as she stutters.

“It was fake? The whole- the whole proposal? Y-you and Sherlock? I mean I… I just assumed you are together because… Sh-sherlock is hanging around you these days. And- and…” Molly trails off clearly embarrassed. (Y/N) shakes her head pitifully.

“Don’t worry. I’m thinking of leaving him at the altar.” She walks away and goes back inside for more wine.

“She’s not going to let that go. Nice move, Hooper. Nice,” Molly shakes her head in self-disappointment.

×•×•×

Sherlock tosses his dress shoes lazily somewhere on the floor after flopping lazily onto the couch. Hearing the clatter, (Y/N) pokes her head out of the kitchen.

“Liked my distraction, Mr. Holmes?” (Y/N) quips teasingly as she brings over some wine. Sherlock sits up straight as she places the glass into his hands.

“It could’ve been better,” he shrugs as she sits down in John’s chair. She frowns and gasps in mock shock,“How so?”

After a few seconds of thinking, Sherlock sets his wine down and stands.

He notes,“A hug is much to fake. Artificial.” (Y/N) stands as well and sips her wine,“What would you have done, eh?” Sherlock smirks,“With your consent I shall demonstrate.”

To answer him, she repeats what he said earlier,“Do what you have to do.” (Y/N)’s smug expression falters as Sherlock sets down her wine.

He looks her in eyes genuinely and he quotes her from earlier as well,“Don’t get mad at me later.”

The moment after he finishes, Sherlock pulls her in close and gives her a heart-soaring kiss. (Y/N) is completely shocked at first but then gives into the kiss. Almost unwillingly, they stop and pull away. She is completely star-struck and Sherlock chuckles at her expression.

(Y/N) shakes herself out of her daydream and giggles,“I’m not mad.”

“Well, mad or not, you’re still very adorable,” Sherlock leans in and kisses her again.

“Never thought of you as a sweet adjective user, Mr. Holmes,” (Y/N) grins as she leans her head on his forehead. Of course, she has to go on the tips of her toes.

Sherlock laughs,“There’s a first for everything, Mrs. Holmes.” (Y/N) swats his arm playfully.

Their room is quiet when John whispers, “I’m proud of you, love” into Sherlock’s curls, his chest pressed to his husband’s back and their legs tangled.

“You’re proud of me?” Sherlock asked, his voice already full with sleep as he leans back into John’s embrace.

“Yes,” John smiles, breathing him in, “of course.”

Sherlock yawns, his fingers brushing John’s hand where it rests on his chest, “What brought that on?”

“You, tonight.” John holds him tighter, Sherlock humming happily. “You know, Greg once told me that you were a great man, and that maybe one day, you’ll be a good one.”

“Greg?” Sherlock replies, a smile in his voice.

John nips at the soft skin behind his earlobe, earning a light giggle from Sherlock, before pulling away. Sherlock’s entire body shivers as John presses them closer together, closing his eyes as he rests his forehead against Sherlock upper back.

“Tonight, you proved everyone that you are a good man, and even if I knew all along, I’m glad you’re letting other people see it too.”

Sherlock remains silent for a long moment, stroking their feet together, and John doesn’t say a word either. He waits, feeling Sherlock’s back rise against his back chest with every breath and marveling at the sensation.

“I’m not sure I am a good man, John.” Sherlock finally murmurs.

“Oh yes, you are,” John hurries himself to reply, pulling away just enough to force Sherlock to turn around and face him.

Sherlock’s eyes are closed, and John kisses both of them softly.

“Sherlock,” he whispers, “look at me.”

Sherlock opens back his eyes slowly, staring directly into John’s.

“You are a good man,” John says, cupping his jaw, “Tonight you listened to Molly talking about her new boyfriend and not once you made a harsh comment or made her feel awkward. Tonight you watched Greg openly flirt with your brother and didn’t throw them out or even laughed at them.”

Sherlock sighs in disgust, rolling his eyes, and John laughed. He kisses him quickly, savoring the remaining taste of green tea on his lips.

“Tonight you show all of them that you care,” John whispers against Sherlock’s lips.

“And that makes me a good man?” Sherlock asks, shifting closer if possible.

“That makes you the man I fell in love with, and wants to spend the rest of my life with.”

Sherlock smiles, taking back his lips, and John lets Sherlock kiss him slowly until neither of them seem to remember how to breathe anymore.

do you take requests? i love your picfics! anyway, if you do... um...here's a couple of lines? "Oh my God, you've branded me." "Don't overreact, it's just a love bite. Besides, it's not like anyone can see it, unless you wear a low cut blouse."

*evil laughter*

“Dating? Dating, John…did you know about them?”

“Oh my God, you’ve branded me! People are going to talk!”

“Molly, dearest, don’t overreact, it’s just a love bite. Besides, it’s not like anyone can see it, unless you wear a low cut blouse and I know you don’t have any of those.”

After overhearing this conversation between Molly Hooper and Greg Lestrade behind the locked door of her office, the look of horror on Sherlock Holmes’ face was something of a picture.

Sherlock:
So at first sight, the cause of death would appear to be asphyxiation. But -for those of us with a background in forensic science- it is also evident that submersion under water occurred postmortem, which means-

Molly:
*ignoring his explanation* You know, you always come in at night now.

Sherlock:
*stops blabbing, mid sentence* Wait, what?

Molly:
You never stop by the lab in the mornings or afternoons. *then to herself* You're lucky I've had to stay so late.